


Enemy of my Enemy

by weatherman95



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Vader redemption, Gen, eventual sads sorry, everyone decides they hate the emperor, marches merrily off into au land, piett has a stressful day, skywalker family sarcasm, will update tags as we go on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-12-26 09:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18280604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatherman95/pseuds/weatherman95
Summary: Luke and Artoo have been captured and brought aboard the Executor. Vader reveals that he has something in common with a great many people in the galaxy- they all want the Emperor gone. The Rebellion tries to get their hero back. The Emperor finds out some interesting information. Will they all be victorious or be crushed?





	1. Gather

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a fic for Star Wars, so my apologies if this is a little goofy or if characters are OOC. This is fairly self indulgent, so don't take it too seriously.
> 
> In this chapter, Artoo gets snarky, Luke and Vader have a sass off, and Piett has a very very stressful day.

Well, this was just fantastic. Luke huffed at the smoldering remains of his X-wing and the smattering of stormtroopers around him. Of course. Of course he would run into stormtroopers from the _Executor_. Of course they would catch each other by surprise. Of course he would mess up and get shot down. And, of course, they were planning on taking him hostage. For Vader. Of course.

Stupid Vader. Stupid Death Squadron or whatever they were calling themselves now.

“We have you surrounded! Put your hands up!” one of them ordered. The troopers took aim at Luke, but none of them dared fire. 

Luke sighed and gingerly touched his lightsaber. Was it worth it? He could maybe try to escape, but then what? He was stuck in a pretty remote part of a fairly sparsely populated planet. There was nowhere to go. He could probably hijack one of the Imp’s ships, but they’d probably already reported finding him. 

Damn it.

“I said put your hands up!”

Artoo beeped indignantly, spouting a stream of profanities that would make Jabba blush. Crap. They didn’t need to understand Binary to know Artoo was insulting them.

“Artoo! Not now, buddy!” Luke hissed. No need to go making things worse! Luke raised his arms, hoping to distract the troopers enough that they would let the droid’s attitude slide. The bounty only said Luke had to be alive, after all. 

“Someone shut that thing up!” a trooper shouted.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

“Come quietly, or we’ll blast it to pieces!” snapped the first.

That just set Artoo off even more. Luke’s desperate attempts to stop the droid’s tirade were largely ignored (save for the occasional jab in his direction). The troopers were rapidly losing what little patience they had to begin with.

“Artoo! Artoo, please, stop, you’re not helping! Artoo, come on-”

BLAM! Pieces of Artoo’s headpiece flew straight off. Artoo screamed in pain and anger. Smoke spewed from his head. Artoo’s vision lost focus, probably because his systems were adjusting and running diagnostics, not because it hurt, he told himself, not because it hurt.

Instinctively- and angrily- Luke ignited his lightsaber. Like a flash, all troopers moved their aim from Luke to Artoo. They knew exactly what they were doing. Luke balked. If they destroyed Artoo here, there was no getting him back. He’d be gone. Forever.

“Come quietly,” the first trooper repeated, seething. “Or we’ll blast it to pieces.”

Luke shut off the saber. He had no choice. He didn’t fight when the cuffed him, or when they grabbed him, or when they took him (and thankfully, Artoo), back to their ship. 

Artoo stayed silent, but kept a close watch on Luke. And Luke did the same for Artoo. 

They just couldn’t lose each other.

\---

Darth Vader had been silent since receiving word of Luke’s capture. He hardly even moved. The crew tried their hardest to give him plenty of space. No one really wanted to bother him, or even know why he wanted the damned friend-killing, Death-Star-destroying rebel alive. They were sure it was for some horrible, gruesome reason. Vader wasn’t known for his kindness, and even if it was a Reb, they preferred sleeping nightmare free.

That was why as soon as the troopers dropped Luke (and that stupid droid) off, they were ecstatic to be immediately dismissed.

Luke and Vader stared at each other, wordlessly. If Luke’s wrists weren’t cuffed together, he’d be crossing his arms. Or bringing attention to his prosthetic hand. Artoo did his best to glare at Vader. Vader put his hands on his hips.

More seconds ticked by without anyone saying anything.

“Father,” Luke finally stated without any hint of emotion.

“So you’ve come to understand our connection,” Vader replied easily.

“I’ve come to understand you put a Death Star sized bounty on my head.”

“I did specify you were to be taken alive.”

“I let them take me, specifically to protect Artoo,” Luke retorted as though that changed anything.

“And that helped him?”

At that, Artoo brapped. He had to agree with Vader. His sensors still felt like they were on fire. At least Luke was sympathetic. He was a good human.

Luke narrowed his eyes. His father had referred to the droid as ‘him,’ properly. Unprompted. Why? Why didn’t he use ‘it?’ So many other people who weren’t close to Artoo did. Something in the Force shifted. Why didn’t this feel like Bespin…? And then Luke’s cuffs clattered to the floor. Was this some kind of trick? Was his father trying to win him over? It didn’t seem dangerous, just… different.

“I’m not turning, Father,” Luke tested, rubbing his wrists. 

“I know.”

“What?”  
“We have a great many things to discuss, but now is not the time.” Vader turned away and flicked on his com. “Admiral Piett, come join me outside my quarters at once.”

“Y-Yes, my lord. Right away, sir,” responded a rather tired sounding Imp.

“What have we gotten ourselves into, Artoo?” Luke whispered.

Artoo beeped softly. He knew Luke couldn’t understand without a translator, but hoped it would be comfort him anyway.

\---

Piett switched off the com and groaned. His day had gotten so much more stressful so very quickly. A nearby trooper inquired on his wellbeing and Piett just lifted a hand and mumbled something about a meeting. That and Piett’s expression said it all.

Everyone understood a meeting with Vader.

Piett straightened his back. No matter. No use bemoaning his luck. This just came with the job. Things had been going fine- he probably just wanted to discuss a change in plans of some sort. Or ask how the latest something-or-other was going. All things Piett could handle.

It was too short a walk. It was always too short a walk.

“You wanted to see me, sir…?” Piett trailed off. Why was that blasted rebel here? And why was a- quite literally- blasted droid here, too?

“Admiral Piett. You trust my judgment, correct?” Vader asked, wasting no time. Oh no, what was this?

“Y-Yes, Lord Vader. I do.”

“And you would fight by my side no matter the cost, would you not?”

Luke was looking more and more confused by the moment.

“No matter what, sir,” Piett answered. He did his best to hide all of the questions swirling in his head. And the mounting panic, but Vader likely knew about that anyway.

“Admiral Piett, this is Rebel Commander Luke Skywalker. My son. I have a great many things to ask of both of you, but first, would you please take this droid to repairs?”

Poor Piett almost fainted right then and there.

\---

Sequestered away from the main traffic sat a cluttered room, filled with bits and pieces of droid parts- and a few powered down droids in various states of repair. One might assume there was a method to the madness, perhaps some organizational thought to the chaos. But the truth was, the room’s occupants were simply very very busy.

In among the mess, two humans sat cross legged on the floor, working on a little droid. 

Vader preferred having organics fix droids above all else. He expected nothing less than perfection, but there was something about having organic mechanics on staff that seemed to make things go more smoothly. At least, that’s what he’d claimed. He’d specifically wanted these two particular mechanics, supposedly because of their sheer skill, to take over all droid related maintenance duties for the entire Super Stardestroyer. A tall order, not that either of them minded. They were competent, intelligent, and approached their droids like a doctor would a human patient.

Which was exactly why the two were on the floor, encouraging their latest “patient” to try to hover just one more time. 

Nora, with her dark, curly hair tied back in the tight pony tail standard in the Imperial army, held her hands out just underneath the droid. “If you fall, we’ll catch you. I promise.”

The droid beeped uncertainly. She was an experimental version of a radiosonde droid. She had two eye like sensors on the front of her face with a diamond pattern between and an antenna sticking out the top of her head. Two “legs” stuck out either side of her, to help her turn as she hovered, and a few instruments to measure location, atmospheric pressure, temperature, and humidity stuck out of her backside like a little tail.

She was R8R-1, and they found her quite endearing.

“It’s not a very far drop! It’ll be alright!” the other mechanic, a lanky man named Tuuro, said. He was holding her up not even a full meter off the ground.

But, before they could give it a go, the door snapped open. Admiral Piett stepped in, followed by a rather unhappy looking old astromech.

Tuuro and Nora shot up and, stumbling, searching for a spot, setting R8R-1 down, scrambled to attention. 

“At ease. Lord Vader has given you two strict orders to cease whatever it is you are working on and begin the repair of this droid immediately. It is,” his face softened- just a little, “in your best interest to see to it that the droid is fully repaired as quickly as possible. Lord Vader is in a foul mood. Please, make sure it’s repaired.” 

Stress etched itself into Piett’s normally unreadable face. He seemed far off, perhaps in another galaxy. Tuuro suppressed the urge to ask if he needed a seat. But Piett didn’t have to explain any further. Fix the droid, or die. Tuuro and Nora glanced to each other and to the astromech. Well, looks like they’d have to fix the droid.

With that, Piett hurried off. 

Tuuro winced. “What happened to you, little guy?”

Nora knelt before Artoo. “Looks like he got shot. Guess this’ll be another fix first, ask questions later sort of thing.” She put a hand on the side of his head.  
Artoo beeped and pulled back, protesting.

“I’ll have to if we’re going to help you,” Nora said gently.

They could speak Binary! That made sense, actually. Artoo rolled forward again. How would he know whether or not he could trust these humans?

‘Try anything funny and I zap you,’ he threatened.

“That’s fair.” Nora shrugged. Artoo wouldn’t be the first droid to say that. Or actually go through with it.

“Just let us help you, okay? That has to not feel good,” Tuuro tried.

It did hurt, but Artoo had certainly had worse. And it wasn’t the most pressing thing on Artoo’s mind. ‘It’s nothing compared to what my human will do to you if you try to wipe my memory.’

Tuuro shook his head. “Oh, we don’t do that. Ever.”

Nora opened her mouth to say something when R8R-1 piped up.

‘I’ve been here for awhile and they haven’t wiped my memory at all. I’ve seen them do plenty of droid repairs and they never do it. These two are softies, they don’t believe in wiping memory.’

‘Who are you?’

‘R8R-1, but they call me Radar. See? Nicknames. Softies.’

Nora rolled her eyes.

Artoo considered this for a moment. ‘My humans nicknamed me, too. They call me Artoo.’

‘I don’t think they can help it. It’s how they show affection.’

“So, are you okay with us fixing you up?” Nora asked, keeping her body language gentle.

Artoo looked from Nora to Tuuro to Radar. ‘Fine.’

\---

Piett’s mind was still reeling. Skywalker? Lord Vader’s son? Vader wasn’t playing tricks on him, or lying, or anything like that. But why had he revealed that information? And why so abruptly? Why had he requested Piett go back to talk about something further? Why had he asked about his loyalty?

Piett had a very bad feeling about this.

Something very strange was happening and it was only going to get stranger. 

Vader and his son (Force that was the strangest of them all) were waiting for him when he returned. Vader lifted a hand and the door to his quarters slid open. He motioned once, and Luke entered. 

“The droid is being repaired, sir,” Piett reported, stepping in alongside Vader.

“Good,” Vader replied.

The door shut. Piett was now trapped.

“Will he be alright?” the Rebel asked, a strange amount of concern in his voice. This was all so very strange. Piett needed to sit down.

“He will be fine,” Vader answered, reassuring the Rebel. “The mechanics working on him are the finest in the galaxy. Now, for what I needed to speak with you two about. I have reason to believe we all share similar sentiments about the Emperor.”

“What?” Luke and Piett said simultaneously.

Piett’s heart was racing. A rebel was there. And he was with Vader. 

He wasn’t fond of the Emperor, but admitting to it was dangerous. Even more so in front of one’s superior. 

“Relax, Admiral,” Vader said in what was probably supposed to be a soothing manner. “No one else is aware of this.”

“Are you going to get us all on the same page or just let us figure it out on our own?” Luke asked, losing patience.

Vader stared disapprovingly at Luke for a second before speaking. “I feel as though we all do not… appreciate the way the galaxy is being run. Luke has clearly already taken action, and Admiral, am I correct in my assumption you would as well?”

Piett balked. His instinct had been to say yes, he would take action, he would like to do something to take down the Emperor, he would like to fight alongside Vader to get this done. He honestly hadn’t expected that out of himself.

After a second, he nodded. “You are correct, sir.”

“It is settled, then. Luke, when it is safe, contact your Rebel friends and fill them in. It isn’t safe yet, but should be soon. Admiral, I trust that you have an idea of other people we could speak with?”

“General Veers and the droid mechanics would be a good place to start,” Piett answered.

“Very well. We will start with the mechanics.”

Looks like they were going to overthrow the Emperor. 

\---

“General Organa! General Organa!” Wedge was out of breath, running to Leia. He had been trying to get Mon Mothma to let him take a squadron to go after Luke, but she wasn’t so willing to send people to what would be their deaths for one person- no matter who that one person was.

“What, Wedge?” Leia set down the tool she’d been holding. 

“We have reports that Luke was taken to the _Executor_. Vader has him!”

Leia’s eyes widened. Oh no. 

“Just sending one squad won’t be enough, but if we launch an attack, we can get him back. And deal a blow to the Empire.”

“I don’t know, Wedge. I don’t think we can get this approved-”

“We can disable Vader’s flagship and save Luke.”

Leia smiled. “Okay. Okay, let’s go talk to the others. Together.”


	2. Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader has a big question to ask. Tuuro and Nora have something they'd rather not think about. And Palpatine is a little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long and is still so short. I kept breaking my computer and this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. In character? What's that?
> 
> Shit's about to get real y'all.

Vader was only partly listening to Piett and Luke discuss (rather pleasantly, he did note) the best course of action to take. He internally went over everything he knew about the mechanics.

The Force swirled around them, calm currents that only quickened when Vader was near- the frantic pace of anxious creatures. Anxiety they never showed to his face. It was almost admirable. And useful, they needed more people who were level headed in dangerous situations if they were going to face the Emperor.

Both were damn good at their jobs and did it without bothering him. They were passionate about their work and he had no complaints about their performance.

Had they ever shown any kind of loyalty to the Emperor? Vader recalled a specific... incident in their files, long before they’d come to the _Executor_. They would be easily swayed. He may not even need to push them. 

"They may get scared having us all barge in," Luke said, "but I don't really see any other way."

Piett nodded. "They may, but-"

"They will recover from the shock," Vader interrupted. It was time to go. Without any further explanation, he strode out of the room, Luke and Piett taking large steps to keep up.

\---

Tuuro and Nora had very nearly finished repairing Artoo when the door snapped open. And Darth Vader stepped in. With Piett. And a stranger. 

The mechanics jumped up and stood at attention. Tuuro jabbed his leg with a screwdriver. Nora knocked over what used to be part of Artoo. 

Vader lifted a hand. "I trust repairs have gone smoothly."

"Yes, sir," Nora answered, relaxing her posture slightly. Tuuro busied himself with shoving a path clear for Artoo, whose sensors had locked on Luke the moment he stepped in. "The damage looked worse than it was."

"Excellent. Now. There is something of great importance we must discuss.”

Nora flared her nostrils slightly. Tuuro stiffened, still bent down, but immediately relaxed. Hide the fear. Hide the panic coursing through them. What had they messed up? What had they forgotten?

Artoo all but slammed into Luke, who yelped, cutting the tension ever so slightly.

“... Is everything okay, sir?” Nora spoke. The braver of the two, she held her stance firm. She looked Vader right in the eye. Or, where she thought his eyes could be. 

“Relax. This is not a disciplinary meeting. No, we are here to ask something of you two, in regards to your loyalties. I am well aware of an incident that occurred approximately five years ago. Disciplinary actions were taken then, but no incidents have come up- or _have been reported,_ ” Vader emphasized the last part carefully, “since then.” 

Tuuro glanced over to Nora, whose neutral expression didn’t waver. They’d been caught saying some… unsavory things about people they had no business saying unsavory things about. They’d insulted the Emperor and several of his lackies and meant every word of it. They had been more forgiving Vader was mentioned. The man was terrifying and cruel, but they had to admit, he had a knack for getting things done. Even if they weren’t overly fond of his methods.

But why was this being brought up now? It hadn’t even been brought up in their interviews. It had seemed odd at the time, but Tuuro and Nora didn’t want to say anything and ruin their chances. Those interviews had been their last hope.

“I know you two feel very strongly about how things are managed. And you have your reasons. I also know that these feelings did not extend to anybody on this ship. Because of this, I am giving you an opportunity. Bear in mind that if you cross me, and I will know if you do, there will be dire consequences. Say the wrong things in the wrong places again, and you will not be forgiven.

“Aid me in claiming the galaxy as my own. In return you will have the security you desire, and the revenge you seek.” Nora found it difficult to maintain a poker face.

Tuuro didn’t even try. His eyes widened. He wasn’t sure he had heard that right, and his gut instinct was to panic. And cover said panic with a stupid joke. Which he held back.

Somewhere behind him, Radar squeaked what sounded like a cheer.

Artoo beeped a string of curses.

“Sir?” Tuuro ventured, trying not to think about the fact that Artoo just asked Vader if he was inebriated.

“You’re not asking us to… rebel, are you?” Nora asked.

“Not in the sense you’re implying. We would simply be removing a politician from office.”

Nora fell silent. She wanted to go with it. But she knew it would be dangerous. She briefly thought this could be a trap, but no. That wasn’t a dirty trick Vader would play. That wasn’t his style. If he suspected anyone of being a traitor, he’d kill them outright with no second thoughts or beating around the bush.

Nora turned to Tuuro and their eyes met. Tuuro nodded after a moment, a motion so small she very nearly missed it. 

She knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try. But she didn’t want to agree for him, without letting him have a say.

It was like they had said all those years ago.

“We would rather follow you, sir,” Nora answered, turning to face the Sith again. “We are with you. Whatever you decide.”

In the corner, sat a heavily damaged droid. It was barely recognizable, but it still worked. And its communication systems still worked. It had been a mouse droid at one point in time, a lifetime ago. Sluggishly, it sent one message to a single ship, lightyears away.

\---

The rebel base was buzzing with activity. Fighters, squad leaders, and mechanics darted about, rushing to prepare.

One pilot staggered to her squad leader. She had been woken up for this and was doing her best to catch up. “What’s going on?”

“Get ready for an assault. We know the location of the _Executor_. We’re going now- we launch the attack at 1700 standard.”

\--

A com beeped. The rebel tech monitoring it swiveled their head around. The message they’d received was heavily encrypted and they fussed with it for a moment. A sudden commotion grabbed their attention as a colleague received something from a spy.

Vader was planning something. They didn’t know what, but it was big.

\-- 

Luke was talking so quickly, it was taking some effort for Artoo to keep up. Something about this was their chance to make it count, and that he hoped the transmission he’d sent to the rebel base had made it through. And that he was so incredibly glad Artoo was okay.

Artoo was damn glad Luke was okay, too. But he’d rather they be anywhere but on the damn Executor. 

Not that they could do anything about it.

Artoo was still a little dinged up and the mechanics were shakily putting the finishing touches on his repairs. And there was the whole take down the Emperor thing they’d gotten into.

Piett had gone off with Vader to prepare to speak with the rest of the crew. They were to converge in a little over an hour and a half, at 1645 standard. It wouldn’t have been much time to prepare had Vader not been dreaming of this since the day he found out he had a son.

This had been a long time coming.

\---

It wasn’t often Emperor Palpatine was lost in thought. A faint tremor had pulsed through the Force. No matter, that was not uncommon. What was uncommon was where it came from.

A noise behind him. Someone was requesting an audience with him. Now, that was uncommon.

A Grand Admiral. How… Grand. The Emperor smiled to himself, baring his teeth to the crouching form before him.

“Rise. Rise, and tell me- what is so important that requires my attention so quickly?”

The Grand Admiral stood. “It’s a transmission from the _Executor_ , sir. It appears they are planning some sort of coup. … Lord Vader is… leading it.”

Oh. That was very uncommon. Palpatine thought for a moment, considering his options. Then, he laughed.

“Sir?”

“Take it out. It’s no bother. Treat it as though you’re neutralizing any other threat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Palpatine had started to walk away, but paused. “And, Grand Admiral. I would like to join you on this little endeavor.”

“S-Sir?”

“I would like to see this squashed myself. In fact... I would like to make an appearance before them at 1700 standard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3c


	3. 1700 Standard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rebellion arrives- and so do some unexpected parties. Fighting breaks out, and drastic, split decisions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god this got so long and I'm still not happy with it, but you know how it goes. I make words happen and then I throw them at you violently. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Yeet!_

Rows of stormtroopers, surrounded by soldiers of higher ranks, stood at attention. It was 1640 standard, and the speech wasn’t meant to start yet, but they were required to gather early.

And so gather early they did.

And now they had to wait. 

So wait they did.

No one could deny that a wave of excitement had gone through them upon learning Lord Vader was going to give some kind of a speech. There was an air of mystery about it. Nothing of note had happened lately to give a speech on. No soaring victory, no crushing defeat. No devastating losses to mourn or incredible successes to celebrate had occurred within the last few weeks.

As far as status quo a civil war could be, things had been pretty status quo. The most exciting thing had been the capture of a rebel, and nothing special had even come out of that. Disappointingly. Turned out it wasn’t really the rebel that had blown the Death Star all to hell. So they’d been told.

Some troopers had joked that Vader was getting restless and had decided they were going to attack some random planet to force them to give some kind of information they probably didn’t need. Or that the rebels had screwed up and given away their location, so the _Executor_ was going to ambush them. They might even like that, if only for the action. They were, they would admit, the ones getting restless.

And for good reason. No orders from the Emperor had come in, no one knew where the damned rebels were, and they were just… stuck. Waiting for something to happen. No one liked it. It made them antsy. It made their skin crawl, like something terrible was about to happen and they couldn’t do anything about it.

The curse of being idle when they’d been so stressed for so long.

Being idle for even a day was too much. 

At last, Lord Vader appeared, flanked by Admiral Piett. They stood from a high vantage point, watching the crowd below them. The Admiral’s hands were folded neatly behind his back, expression unreadable. Vader was as unreadable as ever. Obviously.

The positioning made it so Vader loomed even more than he normally did. He towered above them, a commanding presence in a room that bent to his will. The mood picked up, morale lifting immediately, paradoxically, as their Lord watched them. Terrifying otherwise, there was strength in numbers. Him speaking to you and a few others meant you’d screwed something up and were going to suffer for it. Him speaking to everyone together? Incredible.

Admiration swirled in the Force and Vader paused, focusing on it. Admiration for him. Loyalty. Anticipation. All for him. Not the Emperor. Him.

“The time has come,” Vader started, cracking through the silence like ice. “For decisions to be made. Decisions for the galaxy, for ourselves, and for the future.

We have been shown time and time again we cannot trust those placed in charge to have our best interests in mind.” Vader snarled. Murmuring rose from the crowd despite themselves. Several times in the past few months requests for backup had gone ignored and reports to the Emperor had been disregarded, leaving the army to rush off and lick their wounds or put out fires on their own. “The rebellion has been allowed to strengthen and to threaten to destroy everything we have spent our lives building.

“No longer can we stand by and follow orders. No longer can we stand by and allow the rebellion to endanger the Empire because the very ones ruling it cannot see it for the threat it is. No longer can we stand by and allow the Empire to push us aside in favor of parties and rallies and parades, no!

“The Emperor believes he can continue on as ruler, and leave the mess for us to clean up. He sees us as nothing more than droids he can order to do his bidding! The Rebellion sees us as a danger to galaxy! It is time we make a change!

“The time has come for us to take charge! Only we are fit to rule this galaxy. Join me, and we will lead the galaxy to victory! 

“The Emperor has proven himself incapable of leading any longer! It is time we usher in an era of peace, crush the rebellion, and take our place as the rightful rulers of the galaxy!”

A roar broke out, the cheers of soldiers ready to follow their leader into war. Tens of soldiers that shouted back in denial were silenced by thousands that yelled in support.

Piett allowed himself a small smile. That had gone better than he could have ever imagined. He scanned the crowd, picking out stragglers they’d have to deal with later. So few were there it was almost worth just letting the troopers deal with them in whatever way they seemed fit. But, no, they had to deal with them properly.

Lord Vader would likely want to make an example out of them.

Piett lifted his eyes to the Dark Lord- his Lord. Lord Vader had lifted his own head, as though distracted. Piett called to him, but he did not answer.

\---

Tuuro and Nora had been exempt from the speech- as had Luke, for obvious reasons. The mechanics were to finish the repairs on Artoo. Luke was to at least try to keep a low profile. Vader would fill everyone in on the details after the speech. They had to figure out who was with them before Vader was willing to put Luke in the spotlight even a little bit.

So instead, the humans sat chatting while Artoo’s domed head was tinkered with.

“Tuuro and I have worked together for years,” Nora said.

“Went to academy together, met at a competition. Y’know. Mechanic stuff,” added Tuuro.

Luke nodded. “Mechanic stuff.”

Nora grinned and added, “I whooped his ass. He didn’t stand a chance.”

Tuuro snorted. That was true, he’d been absolutely destroyed by Nora. He’d come in second place, but she won by a landslide. After that, he’d made it his goal to win.

And failed, of course. Nora was unstoppable. But friendship had had a weird way of making itself on its own, no matter the rivalry.

“We started as enemies, I guess,” Tuuro said. “I wanted to beat her so bad and I never could. Well, I guess I did beat her because I was hired first- in your face!- We just got along so well and we had such a common goal, I guess that enemy thing just didn’t work out.”

“Common goal?” Luke urged. Talking to these two was interesting. He was accustomed to seeing the enemy- that gave him pause- in one way. Cruel. Uncaring. But here were two people who were friends, and who had so carefully put Artoo back together in a way that suggested more than just following orders.

Nora answered, as though reading that last thought. “These droids we fix. We just… we don’t look at them like they’re just machines, because they’re not. We’ve both just always been of the opinion that they’re, well, that they’re our patients. Not like fixing a speeder, but healing someone. Does that make sense?”

Luke smiled a crooked smile. His eyes softened as he gazed at Artoo. “Yeah, it does.”

Artoo brapped a retort, calling Luke a sap.

But, deep in his circuits, he felt similarly to Luke. His human. His friend. It wasn’t just being loyal to a master or following programs. Luke meant a lot to Artoo. He cared so much for the human he wondered if he hadn’t lost his mind somewhere on Tatooine. 

And now these two humans- however irritating- were similar and Artoo couldn’t help but feel a twinge of warmth for them as well.

“Why do you want to help us?” Luke asked suddenly.

The mechanics locked eyes briefly. Tuuro dropped his gaze.

“We uh,” Nora cleared her throat and rubbed her wrist. “We had some trouble with… things. In the Empire. It’s… not something we really like to talk about.” She smiled again, awkwardly, brushing the discomfort away. “But, it’s worth it. Y’know. Pushing back.”

“Becoming a Rebel…” Luke grinned.

“Rebel Imp,” Tuuro corrected, hoping to lift the mood. “We haven’t fully committed to the idea. C’mon, man, we just got into this.” 

Luke laughed.

Nearby, Radar tried to lift herself up, not wanting to be left out any longer. ‘Rebels, Imps, Rebel Imps, whatever. We’re gonna wreck some human sh-’ 

“Radar!” A scold came from the mechanics simultaneously.

‘Radar, something tells me a friend of mine would hate you. And that’s a compliment,’ Artoo beeped.

Luke looked lost. He opened his mouth to speak, but raucous cheering cut him off. “Guess they liked whatever Vader had to say,” he chuckled.

“Figured,” Tuuro said while Nora did a little jig like she was joining in on the celebrating.

Luke’s smile fell. He stared off into the distance for a moment, concern etching its way onto his face. Then came confusion, and panic.

“What’s wrong?” Nora asked, hurrying over to kneal next to him.

A crash slammed the ship. Alarms blared, loud and sudden. The mechanics jumped in surprise and Luke sprang to his feet.

“We’ve gotta go. C’mon, we gotta find Vader!” Luke grabbed the mechanics and, checking Artoo and Radar, ran out the door.

\---

The Rebel ships had mercifully managed to avoid detection so far. At least, that’s what all the scanners said. No Tie fighters were out and about when they came out of hyperspace. It was like everyone was asleep. They didn’t waste any time launching the attack.

Something felt very very wrong, Wedge thought. “Rogue Squadron, focus fire on the flank, watch for enemy fighters, they could come out of anywhere!”

Rogue Squadron obeyed, peeling off with him to start a closer assault. They’d clearly caught the _Executor_ of all ships by surprise, why did something feel so off?

A ship blasted past Wedge. The Falcon. Good, they were closing in. They were going to get onboard and find Luke before the kid could get blown to pieces by the fighting.

… If they could call this fighting.

The proximity alert told Wedge a ship was coming up fast. A Tie fighter! He opened fire and the ship exploded. Several more followed suit and Wedge shouted a command for Rogue Squadron to regroup. “We’ve got company! Focus on those fighters! Find where they’re coming from and knock them out!”

God he hoped that Leia and Han were getting in safely.

Two X-Wings exploded behind Wedge. A fighter opened fire on him and he retaliated, tailing it has it shot up above the fray.

“Oh no you don’t!” Wedge muttered.

The destruction of two more rebel ships was met with the destruction of five Tie fighters. They appeared laughably unprepared.

But Wedge could not shake the feeling that they were missing something. Wedge’s attention was momentarily grabbed by his proximity alarm. Again.

The Tie fighter he was pursuing flew over the roof of the _Executor_. And then exploded.

“What the-!?” 

More Tie fighters. And a Star Destroyer. Fresh from hyperspace.

All at once, the coms were slammed with chatter, commands to fall back and to get out of the way, exclamations of surprise as the new Tie fighters attacked the old, and confused and angry shouts from leaders trying to get control of the situation all overlapped each other. Some voices were cut off as someone else started talking over them or they were killed in the firefight.

Through the confusion, Wedge heard the command to retreat. He reinforced the command, but the attempt was cut short by a Tie fighter (new? Old? He wasn’t positive.) taking out Rogue Three.

Wedge returned fire, making quick work of that one. 

He was almost slammed into by a fleeing Tie fighter that was closely chased by yet another one. Instinctively, Wedge whipped around and fired three times, destroying the attacking fighter with ease. 

The _Executor_ was being attacked. By them and by Imps. Other Imps. Or something. Oh Force, what was happening?!

\---

Getting onto the _Executor_ had been fairly simple, all things considered. Suspiciously so.

Of course, then the Empire decided to attack one of their own ships, and the Retrieve Luke Without Dying or Being Spotted plan had been set on fire and tossed out the window.

Chewbacca loudly voiced his alarm while Threepio shouted something about remembering he hated space travel. Leia and Han swore and argued over the next best course of action.

But they couldn’t wait around forever. The moment they could, Han, Leia, Chewie, and Threepio ran like hell out of the Falcon and further into the _Executor_.

\---

The explosions and chaos were all too familiar to the mechanics. ‘You guys go, I’ll hold them off!’ a voice haunted them, the last thing they’d ever heard from a friend all those years ago. 

They hadn’t just gotten disciplinary actions from their little stunt. They’d lost someone important. Their trio dashed, along with what was left of their beliefs in the Empire.

It had been a shock when they heard that Vader had been against what had become of their group.

But that was absolutely not what they needed to think about. They needed to focus on surviving, and on figuring out where Vader had ended up.

Locating Vader in the mayhem was obnoxiously difficult. To make matters worse, Luke had to focus some of his energy with figuring out which of the stormtroopers were friends and which were going to try to shoot him or the mechanics in the head. He reached out to the distant dark spot in the force. His father. 

Vader was reaching out to him at the same time, which surprised Luke. A hint of worry came through when they made the briefest of connections. It only made Luke want to get to his father faster.

Lots of enemies stood in their way.

Unfortunately, Luke was the only one armed. Nora was entirely empty handed and Tuuro was carrying little Radar along. So, the first objective was to get the mechanics something useful for defense.

Flicks of his wrist sent blaster bolts back to the attacker. A stolen blaster was a start.

“Hey!” he called, tossing the blaster at the mechanics. Nora caught it with a yelp and fumbled with the unfamiliar weapon.

“What do I do?!” she yelled.

“Point and shoot!” Luke called back. Several more aggressive stormtroopers had appeared and Luke tussled with them. “Now would help!”

Nora furrowed her brow and squeezed the trigger. The resulting shot was much stronger than she had been anticipating and the recoil threw her off balance. The beam dug into the knee of a stormtrooper and he whipped around to focus fire on Nora. Panicked, she fumbled and fired again, this time hitting the soldier in the stomach.

He dropped and didn’t get back up. 

A foul taste rose up Nora’s throat. She’d just killed someone. 

Artoo, seemingly sensing she was rooted in place, rolled into her a few times and pulled her out of her trance.

Luke downed the other attackers and grabbed a fallen trooper’s gun. He shoved it into Tuuro’s free hand. “Let’s go!”

They fled further down the hallway. Someone tried to attack from behind, but Radar screeched a warning and Luke sent the aggressor flying back with a hasty push through the Force.

They rounded a corner and Radar screeched again, much happier this time.

Piett! 

Celebrations were cut short. Artoo brapped in warning, just as the Force blared a warning of its own to Luke. More troopers!

Luke sprang into action first. Piett fired, expression severe yet calm. One, two, three troopers dropped before Nora and Tuuro could even react. 

The troopers were surrounding Luke, and Nora rushed over to help their. She hated the fighting, but when it came down to choosing between this Rebel that had been nice to them and the troopers who were actively trying to kill them all, the choice practically made itself. She clocked a trooper in the helmet and shot him in the shoulder. Okay, so the shot had been an accident, but it got the job done. Guns were unwieldy at first, especially in such a stressful time. 

Tuuro backed up Piett, but tripped over a body in the scuffling. His gun and Radar clattered to the floor. He snagged the gun and scrambled to his feet, hovering protectively over Radar.

Radar, however, whirred her rotors as fast as she could. There was no way she was letting Tuuro do something foolish. She lifted about an inch of the ground, pushing through the struggle. Tuuro fired at someone, but she ignored it.

And then, she shot straight up into the air. She was flying!

‘Radar!’ Artoo cheered. ‘You’ve got it!’

‘Hell yeah!’ Radar called in response. 

Artoo bumped (and knocked over) a trooper that was aiming for Luke. ‘Now help us out!’

‘You got it! Hey, assholes! Stay away from my humans!’ Radar shakily flew over- not to overdo it- and bumped a trooper before he could shoot Nora. 

Once the trooper was distracted, Luke struck him down. “There’s more coming!”

“We’ve got it here, go find Lord Vader!” Piett said. “Nora, take your droid and cover for him!”

“On it!” Nora snatched Radar, who beeped indignantly, out of the air. “Come on, you can’t keep this up for long. Luke, let’s go!”

Luke nodded at the others and gave Artoo a quick pat. “Be careful.” 

“We will, just go!” Piett shouted back.

As more troopers rushed down the hallway, Artoo, Piett, and Tuuro blocked them. Luke and Nora, Radar in hand, dashed away, off in the direction Luke had sensed Vader.

\---

An Imperial trooper gunned down more of the _Executor’s_ troopers as he ran to the med bay. He armed a grenade and tossed it in. Then, without looking back, he bolted away.

The resulting blast rocked the ship. The med bay was disabled.

\---

Outside the ship the battle raged on. The Emperor had just publicly called for the destruction of the traitorous _Executor_ and anyone that may sympathize with them. Including Darth Vader. The message had spread quickly and the Emperor was almost certain this little “rebellion” would be squashed with little fanfare. But holos of Vader’s speech had gone through the net like a wildfire.

The Rebellion itself had their own ideas. Adapting as fast as possible, Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, and the rest of the leadership saw an opportunity they never knew possible.

The Emperor’s squads had managed to fudge communications, but just before things went silent, the command was given to aid the _Executor_.

Should they be able to get them on their side, they would make powerful allies.

Wedge was in hot pursuit of one of the Tie fighters the Emperor sent (well, he hoped it was, he was having a hard time telling the difference). Someone fired at him from behind and he peeled off. No use getting himself destroyed for someone that may or may not actually be the enemy. … That was odd to think.

He flew off back to the _Executor,_ hoping to either shake the fighter or swing around and return fire. His proximity alarms went off a third time that day and his heart jumped to his throat. 

Even more Tie fighters! And another Star Destroyer! 

Which immediately opened fire on the Star Destroyer the Emperor sent. The Tie fighter flew off to help their Destroyer.

“Anybody have any clue what’s going on?” Wedge tried calling over the com.

“It looks like the _Executor_ has reinforcements,” Mon Mothma answered, sounding pleased to hear someone again.

“Hey!” Wedge laughed. “Finally got through! Any other changes we should know about?”

A crackle, then an unfamiliar voice came through. “General Veers with the _Devastator_. Sorry we’re late to the party! Heard you guys might need a little help with the Emperor problem. We got you online with us and the _Executor_.”

Huh. Well wasn’t that nice. Help had arrived and now Wedge had a way to tell who was the actual enemy.

Actual enemy. Guess this was really happening.

“Alright,” Wedge said. “Let’s see if we can’t turn the tides here.”

\---

Leia, Han, Chewie, and Threepio were trying their hardest to avoid the fighting and figure out where Luke had gone. All their energy was concentrated on Luke and bringing him back safely. The kid had risked his own life for them far too many times, it was time to return the favor.

And Artoo! They didn’t even know if he was still alive. God, they hoped he was. But the more they looked, the less likely it seemed that any prisoners had survived any of this.

Well, that’s what they thought, until a familiar beep came from down the hall.

“ARTOO!” Leia shouted. She ran faster, followed closely by the others. Luke was just down the hall! With Artoo! They were- She stopped cold. So did the group she’d just run into. She drew her weapon and Tuuro raised his arms in surrender.

‘Leia! Waitwaitwaitwait- They’re with me!’ Artoo beeped.

“He says they’re with him!” Threepio translated. 

Leia lowered her gun and opened her mouth to question him.

Before she could say anything, some of the Emperor’s troopers fired at them from behind the Rebels. Piett shot back as the Rebels whipped around and returned fire.

“What did you guys do?!” Han shouted. He held his arms out in exasperation and saw more troopers coming from behind the Imps.

Piett grabbed Han’s arm but didn’t stop. “Massive amounts of betrayal, now go!”

There were way too many for them to even attempt to fight. 

Threepio waited for Artoo to catch up. “Oh! Did you hear? Vader is going against the Emperor!”

‘Yes, I’ve heard you bucket of bolts! Where do you think I’ve been this entire time!?’

“Why I never! We’re being shot at and you’re still sarcastic!” There wasn’t any malice or anger in Threepio’s voice. In fact, Threepio had never been happier to be insulted by his friend.

Chewie lifted his crossbow and fired, sending several troopers flying back. 

Piett gawked for just a moment. Maybe this wouldn’t result in complete annihilation after all.

\---

Wedge found himself in command of a smattering of X-Wings and Tie fighters. They did everything he said, and he couldn’t wait to tell Luke who had joined Rogue Squadron. Because he was absolutely going to get to tell Luke. He’d heard chatter that his friend was still alive. He was going to tell Luke. Wedge’s new buddy, General Veers, had partnered up with Rogue Squadron as well. In an incredible turn of events, they’d pushed the Emperor’s fighters back. Fighting was a lot easier when you didn’t have to watch your back quite so much.

“Hey, Rogue Leader! Help us out over here, the Star Destroyer’s shields are down!” Veers said.

“Alright! You heard him, Rogue Squadron! Concentrate on the Star Destroyer!”

Rogue Squadron opened fire. Veers’ Star Destroyer opened fire. The Emperor’s Tie fighters frantically tried to defend. The Star Destroyer did what it could to attack. The firefight intensified.

And the Star Destroyer vanished in a brilliant explosion.

Rogue Squadron cheered even as the shock wave jolted them. 

Seeing the destruction, the remaining of the Emperor’s fighters began to flee. The call to retreat had been made.

Wedge smiled. Somehow, victory was theirs.

\---

Though the rest of the Imps had abandoned their pursuit, a small cluster stayed behind to provide cover.

“We’ve got to find Luke and get back to the Falcon!” Leia shouted over the chaos as she took one trooper down. “There’s nothing we can do here!”

Let them run. Chasing them would be useless. Getting Luke out mattered a hell of a lot more.

Han fired three more shots. “Gonna be hard to fly off if we’re all dead!”

“Where’d you land?” Piett yelled. Two more Imperials shot into the group and he yanked Tuuro out of the way. A stray shot grazed Piett’s leg and he lost balance, but Chewie pulled him back up. Piett barely felt the pain with all the adrenaline coursing through him.

Tuuro wasn’t a fighter. He’d barely even held a blaster before today. He was entirely out of his element. His breath was rapid and shallow, mind racing and overwhelmed. Focus. He had to focus. 

“It’s in one of the lower hangers! Artoo, see if we have a way down!” Leia yelled.

Artoo rolled to a computer port. A shot struck the wall, dangerously close, and he screeched.

Tuuro took a deep breath. Right. Droids. Focus on the droids. That was familiar, that was something he knew. He could help them.

Chewie launched something explodey at the Imps, knocking several out. Leia fired several shots and took one Imp down. Han and Piett did the same. One left. Han fired one bolt at the Imp’s leg, knocking him down.

And then time slowed down. The remaining Imp knew this was it. He would be killed. He could only try to take as many traitors out as possible. Moments before Chewie finished him off, he raised his gun and fired.

The bolt blasted into the damaged ceiling above the group just beyond where the ceiling met the wall, effectively eliminating what little structural integrity it had remaining. Artoo was directly beneath it when it collapsed.

“NO!” several voices cried out. Leia automatically reached, but Tuuro was faster.He threw himself over Artoo, a human shield. He squeezed his eyes shut. And then they disappeared under the debris.

A beat, then Piett was the first to react. He ran over and started digging. “Get them out. Get them out!”

“Shit,” Han cursed, darting over to help. The debris tore at his skin, but he didn’t notice. They had to get Artoo out. They had to get Tuuro out.

Chewie tossed the larger pieces with a worried growl. This was heavy, even to him.

“Artoo! Tuuro! Can you hear us?!” Leia called, digging and pulling as much as she could. No response. “Artoo!” she tried again.

Piett called out as he moved a piece he thought had been near where had been, “Tuuro, can you-” Hair. “I’ve got him! Tuuro! Tuuro, can you hear us? Artoo?”

A beep, muffled, but there. Artoo! Energy surged through the group. They dug faster.

“Artoo, oh, thank the maker!” Threepio had been feeling particularly useless at not being able to help dig. Hearing his dear old friend would have made him collapse with relief had that been possible.

When they’d uncovered enough of him, Piett grabbed Tuuro’s shoulder, relief washing over him. “Always have to help your droids, eh?” No answer came. “Tuuro?” Piett tried to rouse him. When nothing happened, he lifted the mechanic’s wrist. Nothing. “Kriff. Kriff! Get him out!”

Chewie pushed some debris out of the way and carefully, but quickly, lifted Tuuro off of Artoo. He held Tuuro’s head in place and set him on the ground.

Tuuro’s eyes were screwed shut. His jaw was at an odd angle and his hair stuck to his forehead, plastered by blood. He was completely limp. He wasn’t breathing.

Piett pressed two fingers to Tuuro’s neck. Something felt very wrong under his skin. Something had been shoved where it shouldn’t be. There was nothing they could do. 

“Gone,” Piett said, sitting back in defeat. Dammit, this wasn’t supposed to have happened. This wasn’t supposed to have happened! Tuuro wasn’t supposed to fight! Han muttered a weak apology that Piett barely heard. Piett had seen death day after day, but Tuuro wasn’t supposed to fight. He’d technically been Piett’s responsibility, even after agreeing to help.

This wasn’t supposed to have happened. 

Leia gently crouched in front of Artoo. “Are you okay?”

The little droid beeped softly in the affirmative. Threepio fussed over him, but Artoo barely responded. He was damaged again, but it wasn’t bad. He was dinged up. He would have been badly injured, but he wasn’t. Tuuro saved him. And that hurt far more than it should have. Tuuro was an Imp, this shouldn’t hurt so much.

… Right?

The floor shuddered and engines thrummed to life in preparation for the jump to hyperspace. It was over. The battle was over. If any enemies were left, they were completely trapped now.

What was left of the _Executor_ and the Rebel fleet limped away to safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm so sorry._


End file.
